


The Real Thing is Always Better

by Zephrbabe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers Merchandise, Darcy Speaks Her Thoughts Out Loud, F/M, Pining, Sickfic, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, more or less
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 18:36:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephrbabe/pseuds/Zephrbabe
Summary: Darcy is sick and wrapped up in a specific superhero's merch.





	The Real Thing is Always Better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dresupi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/gifts).



“What’s this?”

Darcy’s shoulders hunched up against her will, and she fought to have her body relax back into the sofa. The minute gesture caused a small avalanche of kleenex to cascade off her lap.

Why did it have to be Tony? He was only going to make fun of her. He could charm a boardroom full of angry stockholders, but he could never manage not to sound like an older brother picking at his siblings when he was in the Tower.

“Hey, short stack, what’s with all the Captain America merch? Have I not hooked you up with enough Iron Man kitsch?”

“I’m sick,” she coughed, hoping he’d be too disgusted to stick around and pry. She blew her nose for good measure, and wished she hadn’t already run out of the moisturized tissues.

“I can see that,” Tony said, plopping down next to her. He was within arm’s reach, despite her being germy and gross.

“I’m germy and gross.”

“So you are,” he said, doing that annoying head-tilt-with-eyebrow that Darcy didn’t have turned on her very often. “Jarvis, order some soup for Lewis. Broth or something. That’s what sick people like, right?”

“Certainly, sir,” Jarvis’ mild voice replied. “Would you prefer chicken noodle or tom yum, Miss Lewis?”

Darcy opened her mouth, but Tony beat her to it, “Just get both. And have some aloe tissues sent up. Your nose looks like Rudolf’s.”

“Thanks,” Darcy grumbled, pulling the thick fleece blanket up to her chin. Why had she thought leaving her bedroom was a good idea?

Tony reached out and tugged the rucked-up blanket over her toes. She watched, with growing apprehension, as his shrewd gaze took note of every single item around her.

“Even your socks have Cap on them,” he said. “Your pajamas have stars and shields, and this blanket is the vintage comic book design we gave out for his 95th birthday extravaganza in the park, when you laughed about sitting on his face and seeing fireworks.” A familiar expression of discovery clicked on Stark’s face. “Lewis, do you-”

“Makes me feel better,” she interrupted in a small voice. The roughness of her throat almost didn’t let her get it out, but she was too tired and achy to stop herself. She didn’t want to be teased, but she wanted to hold back even less.

Tony handed her the mug of tea Jane had left her with; it was cold, but that was ok. She untucked the blanket so she could stick her arm out and take it from him. It was weird enough that Tony was handing her anything that she blurted, “Not gonna get the real thing, so.”

Tony’s head rose and he cast a considering look over the top of the sofa, behind her. The back of Darcy’s neck prickled. What was he looking at?

He plucked the Iron Patriot mug from Darcy’s unresisting fingers and let it thunk onto the table, sloshing a little.

“Well- that’s enough bedside manner for me,” he quipped, jumping up from the plush sofa like he wasn’t practically old enough to need his knee joints replaced. He patted his hands on his overpriced jeans, flicked his eyes at Darcy, and said over his shoulder as he left, “You are totally germy and gross, Lewis.”

Darcy tried tossing a wadded-up tissue at him, but he was already out of range. The floor around her, she noted vaguely, was littered with balled tissues.

The fleece blanket was great- opportunity to sit on Steve’s illustrated face aside- but Darcy was feeling chilled, and she regretted not hauling another one up here with her when she’d had the energy. The perceived drop in body temperature was making her drowsy, and she was contemplating whether she should try to shuffle around so she could lay out, or just put her feet up on the coffee table and damn the awkward position.

Just as she was unwinding her arms from her cocoon, someone set a steaming mug into her hands. Startled, but too lethargic to spill, Darcy looked up and sucked in a breath so sharply that she started coughing again.

“Damn- let me-” Steve lifted the mug away and set it on the coffee table. He bent down and placed a broad, warm hand on her back, rubbing in circles. He probably thought he was being soothing; as though having his hands on her didn’t cause Darcy’s heart rate to pick up.

She wished she didn’t react quite so strongly, or at least that her reactions weren’t as obvious as the blush she could feel engulfing her face. Darcy could only hope Steve mistook her red fluster for lack of oxygen.

He sat down in the spot Tony had just vacated and handed her the fresh mug of tea again; this one had a chibi Thor shouting something in Japanese. She couldn’t smell anything right now, but there was a whole leaf in the bottom of the mug, so she assumed it was the good stuff. Kind of wasted on her at the moment, of course.

“Heard you were sick,” Steve said. He wasn’t doing anything- just sitting next to her with his hands hanging between his knees.

Darcy took a deep drink of tea, and sighed as the heat spread through her chest. She felt human enough for the moment, the chill and pressure in her sinuses receding.

“Is that all you heard?” Her bravery had returned enough to ask, but not enough to look at him while she did. She fiddled with the mug, watching the tea leaf dance and settle as she moved.

Steve didn’t say anything, but reached out and gathered a little of the blanket fabric in his fist. He let the little, repeating shield pattern slip through his fingers a few times, his hand drawing closer to the edge tucked under her chin with each pass. Darcy was holding her breath by the time his fingers brushed her jaw.

“Would having the real thing make you feel better?”

When she met his eyes, the breath left her unsteadily. His expression- that one she saw on him sometimes at Tony’s parties when he thought no one was looking- was vulnerable and a little melancholy behind his half-smile. She forgot, sometimes, that everyone he’d known was gone, and those who surrounded him now were nothing like the friends he’d had when the world wasn’t so foreign.

Darcy covered his hand with her own, pressing their warm fingers together. The bleary sensation she always had when she was sick lifted; for once, felt like she knew what to say.

“The real thing is always better.”

Darcy was watching his eyes start to smile, and in the diffuse light of the overcast day, they were so blue she couldn’t look away. The melancholy drained out of his face, and though the vulnerability remained, it was something more hopeful. Darcy didn’t want to look away.

“Accept no substitutes?” he asked, his lips turning up into a truer smile than she could recall seeing. Steve brushed his thumb over her cheek, sending a shiver over her. “Are you cold?”

Darcy turned her face into the warmth of his palm with a quiet, “A bit.” The fuzziness of her fever was returning, and Darcy had a horrible suspicion she’d just hallucinated an entire conversion with the guy she had a crush on. He was nice enough to bring her tea, though, so maybe he’d be willing to bring her another blanket.

“You’re not hallucinating,” Steve laughed. “And I can do you one better than a blanket, if you’re amenable.”

Darcy tipped her head back onto the sofa cushions like a starlet and let her sore throat make her voice extra husky, “I’m always amenable, Captain Steve.”

“In that case-”

Darcy’s sluggish brain didn’t register all the movements, but she ended up sprawled over a warm super-soldier, a blanket with his alter-ego punching a Nazi covering them. Somewhere in the mix, Steve had toed off his shoes and set Darcy’s tea down.

The sleepiness was overtaking her again, but she tried to savor the sensation of being pillowed on the pecs of righteousness. Above her, Steve laughed softly.

“I could stay like this indefinitely,” Darcy mumbled, “if you’re amenable.”

“Where you’re concerned,” Steve said into her messy hair, “I’m always amenable.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr!](http://zephrbabe.tumblr.com/)


End file.
